“Woman, this isn’t the time or the place.” Charlie looked at his wife, perplexed, as she bent down at his waist.
“In your dreams,” she said, pulling the belt quickly through his loops. With a satisfied grin, she turned, walked back to Bill and handed the belt to him.
“And what am I supposed to do about keeping my pants up?” Charlie inquired.
Jessie grinned. “Not to worry. Between your belly and your butt, honey, you have nothing to fear.”
Lisa chuckled at their playfulness.
“Jezebel,” he grumbled, as he downed another shot.
“Scrooge,” she muttered under her breath, flashing Lisa a wink.
Bill stepped through the door and onto the extended porch. Destiny was curled up in one corner of the swing, laying against one of the comfortable pillows Jessie had used to decorate. Awkwardly, he sat on the other end. Destiny glanced over at him and reversed her position, nuzzling under his arm and laying against him. The wind howled and whistled through the cracks, the occasional flashes of lightning outlining the trees as they blew in grand motion, even the branches on the heaviest of them swaying slightly in the massive storm.
“How’s Syd?”
“Sleeping,” he replied, slowly rocking them back and forth with his foot. “You okay?” He leaned his head until he could see her face. She didn’t move, but he saw her discreetly wipe away a tear. He turned, causing her to stir. “Destiny?”
“I’m okay. Really.” She wiped away another tear and lay flat in his lap. He leaned back again, petting her head, the wood squeaking against the metal with each swaying motion. “I was just so scared,” she finally said, “when I couldn’t find her.” Destiny slowly sat up on her arm, looking into his eyes. “When I thought,” she began. She took a deep breath. “When I thought you…” she suddenly started to sob.
Bill immediately pulled her to his chest. “I’m fine,” he assured her. She pulled away. “But when I thought that you were…” she began again, unable to say the words. “I was so scared.” She sniffed and her hands moved to the scratches on his face. “I can’t lose you, too,” she added sadly.
Bill smiled sweetly and pulled her closer to him, kissing her forehead and pressing her against his chest. They rocked for many moments in silence before she slowly pulled away. She looked up into his dark eyes, searching them, memorizing them. Tentatively her hand traced his face, his cheek, his hair. He dropped his forehead to hers, and she closed her eyes.
Destiny leaned back against his chest. You know when Dr. Villarreal asked me what I was the angriest about, after…” her voice trailed off. “After Winston…” Somehow she couldn’t mouth the words. “And I couldn’t tell her? Maybe it was because there were so many things I was angry about and I was afraid if I spoke them out loud that they would be real. So, I just… didn’t.”
Bill gently rubbed her arm as she spoke, allowing her to talk through overwhelming emotions.
“I was angry about Phillip. I was angry about Rhett. At first, I was angry that I didn’t die with them.”
Bill closed his eyes, her words breaking his heart.
“I was angry about what Winston did, that I trusted him. I was angry with myself for being so stupid.” She bit her lip nervously. “I was angry because he stole more than just my trust. He stole something so much more personal.”
Bill looked down as he continued to rub her arm.
“Phillip is the only man I’ve ever been with,” she cried softly. “And when he died, I swore I’d never…” Destiny caught herself as the tears streamed from her eyes. “That I’d never get close to anyone again. That I’d never fall in love again.”
Bill’s hand moved to her head, stroking her auburn hair.
“And then I met you,” she sniffed. “And suddenly, I thought—” She bit her lip again to keep from sobbing uncontrollably. “I thought that maybe I could… be with someone else. But he stole that from me, too,” she concluded with another sniff. She sat up suddenly and looked him in the eyes.
His heart broke, seeing her tear-soaked face. He reached to wipe the tears away.
“He took away my choice. He ripped away that precious thing that we give of ourselves to one another.” She looked deep into Bill’s eyes. How could he ever understand? “I wanted it to be you,” she said almost in a whisper. “And he took that away,” she cried. “Now, I don’t know…”
Bill pulled her with all his might until she was sitting on his lap. “I can’t begin to know how you feel, but know that it doesn’t matter,” he said, wiping away her tears.
She wiped her nose with the blanket.
Bill raised her chin with his finger. “It doesn’t matter.” He smiled sincerely. “And I hope that you come to a place where you don’t allow him to have another moment of your day by giving him the satisfaction of thinking that he stole anything from you.” He held her face within his palms. “He was a coward and took what he couldn’t get by any other means.” He brushed back her hair. “But it will never change how I feel about you, or how I look at you, or, when you’re ready, how much I want to be with you. Make love to you. And I do,” he said, pulling her face closer until their foreheads kissed. “It won’t be any less special because of him. I won’t give him the satisfaction.”
Destiny closed her eyes and felt his cold kiss on the tip of her nose. She smiled and dropped her head to his shoulder again as he rocked her in his arms, feeling spent, emotionally. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you,” she whispered.
“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, either,” he replied, opening his eyes. “In fact, if this is all we ever do, I’ll be happy—just holding you in my arms.”
Destiny sniffed. “How is it you always seem to know the perfect thing to say?”
“I used to write Hallmark cards.”
Destiny chuckled. “Yeah, so why did you stop?” she asked playfully, with a sniff.
“Well,” he sighed dramatically. “I didn’t have anyone around to inspire me.”
“So, what happens now?”
Bill drew in a deep breath. “Well, first, I’m going to take another really cold shower.” He felt her chuckle under his arm. “And then I’m going to crawl into a bunk bed, which, by the way, I haven’t slept in since I was fourteen. And then, I hope that I can fall asleep.”
Destiny felt her eyes getting heavy as she smiled against his chest.
“Then I’m going to wake up, call the insurance company and see what we can do about Charlie’s truck.”
“And then?” she said in a breath.
“And then,” Bill hugged her tighter, “I’m going to take my family home.”
Destiny’s smile softened. There were no more words spoken. No more words were needed, as they rocked quietly until she fell asleep in his arms.
The Past
Chapter 43
Justine stepped from the luxurious executive room ensuite and finished packing her Luis Vuitton monogrammed bags. She would never have to use faux anything again. Uri lavished her with every extravagance a wife could ever want. There was even an expense account, in which he kept, at least, ten thousand dollars at all times, so she was never in want of anything. Mostly. They’d been together for almost nine years now. Ten if one counted the time that she was pregnant when she mysteriously disappeared from his life. The moment they met, there was an instant spark between them. An intense spark, at that.
They met in Italy during her family vacation in 2000. Uri sought her out within minutes of seeing her at his vineyard, one of his many businesses, and spent the rest of the time she was in Italy wooing and then bedding her. He probably wouldn’t even have cared that she was already involved with someone if she had bothered to tell him. Uri promised her the moon and gave her more. He begged her to stay. Justine promised she’d be back after she wrapped up her affairs stateside.
Except that, the day she returned to the States, she started getting sick, attributing it to the rough flight home. After two days, she suspec
ted it was food poisoning or the flu. Her physician assured her it was none of the above. When Justine found out she was pregnant, she panicked—not something she would usually do. She blamed her emotional state on her hormones, went home, composed herself and contemplated what to do next.
Bill was a nice guy, and he was sweet, but Uri was well-dressed and virile. Though he was ten years her senior, he was fit and athletic, not to mention he had a commanding presence. There was a sophistication about him; Uri was so sure of himself; self-confident. Only now, she knew he was also full of himself. Most importantly, he was loaded.
Bill was a jeans-and-flannel-shirt kind of guy, who worked a boring job in a boring city. For Justine, in the end, it was a no-brainer. The timing of the pregnancy, however, was going to be a problem—simply because she had told Uri she was a virgin, and she was pretty sure the child was Bill’s. Justine considered herself a pretty good actress and felt her performance with Uri their first time in bed made a believer out of him, not that she had to overact since he had another excellent attribute: Uri was very well-endowed.
She explained her need to stay in the States once she was back home, telling Uri she was now expected to be the caretaker of her ailing grandmother, who was actually long deceased. When her mother realized her plight, she insisted Justine marry immediately or give up the child for adoption. Justine started contemplating all her options and plotting her eventual outcome. She knew she didn’t want to be married; she certainly didn’t want to be married to Bill, but she didn’t want to be a single mom living on food stamps and child support, either.
Being an adopted child herself, she refused to have her child grow up in the system. And though she didn’t practice her Catholic faith, she could hear the nuns screaming into her ear that she couldn’t have an abortion. So she went crying to Bill, mostly because she was genuinely heartbroken that he was her last resort. And he took her in, as she knew he would. He proposed. She accepted. Her mother was thrilled. But Justine was miserable.
Bill had tried to be a good husband, and he was a good father. His attentiveness was well-intended. He would bring her soup if she felt sick, massage her feet when they hurt and put pillows under her knees when her back hurt. Justine actually felt a little sorry for him because he sincerely had no clue as to the fact that she never had any intention of staying. She contemplated, albeit not for long, that she might take Sydney with her. However, in all her scenarios, showing up at Uri’s door with a child that more than likely wasn’t his wouldn’t have ended well. When she would finally show up at his door, she knew that he also would have soup brought to her, but hand-prepared by his personal chef. And if her feet hurt, he would hire a masseuse to massage any part of her that hurt, at a moment’s notice. And the pillows he would place under her knees would be covered in the best milled Egyptian cotton and stuffed with the finest goose-feathers. There was no comparison.
When she left, she took everything with her, including the pictures. Then she burned them all. There needed to be no proof of their life together that could ever come back to haunt her. When she left, she quietly walked out of the door, hailed a cab, and took the first flight to Florence. She was on Uri’s doorstep within two days and in his bed the night after that.
Throughout her pregnancy, she had used expensive lotions and oils to help her skin’s elasticity, in the hopes of not having any daily reminders of ever giving birth. Justine prided herself on being able to explain her way out of anything, and up to now that had served her well. Stretch marks? She explained how she had shamefully gained weight while acting as her grandmother’s caregiver. Thankfully, she was able to lose most of the weight, though she feigned disappointment. And as for Uri’s calls? Taking care of a seventy-eight-year-old Alzheimer’s patient had taken such a toll on her. It had been difficult for her. After all, he was on the other side of the world. Uri’s letters? She had conveniently routed those to a secret post office box. The lies only became easier and easier with time.
Justine was becoming skilled at deception. She had an answer for everything. In the end, it was Uri who ended up apologizing, for ever questioning her. They were married in a private ceremony two months later. None of her relatives were in attendance. Only because Justine had disposed of their wedding invitations instead of mailing them. Although Uri offered to pay for their flights, she made plausible excuses for their absences, after which he showered her with more gifts to help her overcome her sorrow at her family’s lack of consideration.
But now the clock was ticking. Literally. Uri was getting impatient for a child, an heir. He wanted a son but would settle for a girl. She no longer trusted birth control pills since she’d been on them when she got pregnant. After Sydney’s birth, Justine got the Implanon implanted to ensure that she couldn’t get pregnant again, covering the incision with a beautiful tattoo. Poor Uri. After several years with no results, he had gone through every conceivable test to assure that he wasn’t shooting blanks. Of course, anytime Uri suggested Justine get tested. she would conveniently fly back to the states to see her personal physician, rather than one, of his choosing, in Florence. However, instead of seeing a doctor, she would spend the weekend at a spa, working on her story for when she returned. It was on Justine’s last trip to the States before the new year when her excuses were getting as thin as Uri’s patience that she decided to make a little side trip.
Justine drove the streets that she hadn’t driven on in over ten years. So many things had changed, so many never would. As she drew close to her destination, she slowed. She glanced out the window to her left as she drove past. It was called the Kemper House. She was simply amazed at what he had done with the place. Justine remembered the day they drove by the old run-down building years ago. Bill had offhandedly remarked that someone should buy that old place and turn it into something amazing. He had done just that. When she had called her mother to announce her marriage to Uri, her mother told her he had bought it. She laughed. He must have gone off the deep end after she left him. She was sure he’d end up bankrupt.
Now, as she drove by the manicured property, she narrowed her eyes slightly. He had actually made something of himself. Justine turned the corner, made the block and slowly drove by again. Her mother had felt obligated over the first few years to update her on Bill and Sydney’s lives. She would send Justine articles she clipped when national magazines featured the Kemper House. And sometimes she would send her daughter pictures of Sydney that Bill sent her at Christmas. Justine disposed of them all immediately. Thankfully, her mother had moved away within two years of Sydney’s birth, so her updates were less frequent, albeit still occasional. Then when they stopped altogether, she was grateful, until she realized her adopted mother had died. Then she was sad. But like everything else in her life, she got over it.
Justine was hoping to get maybe just a glance of Sydney, if only out of curiosity. She pulled to the street corner across from the famous bed and breakfast and then stepped from her rented BMW. She took out her cell phone and pretended to snap pictures of the beautiful house, but was hoping Sydney would appear. It was afternoon, about the time school let out, and carpools and school buses would be delivering children to their rural, ordinary lives.
As if on cue, a blue Honda CR-V slowed and pulled into the wide white rock drive and stopped. Justine side-stepped casually, her phone still close to her eyes. Then she saw her. The dark-haired child jumped from the back of the car and rushed eagerly down the driveway right toward her. Justine froze. Sydney looked into the mailbox and pulled out the large stack of mail, rooting through it. After a moment, Sydney glanced across the street, right at her. Justine felt her face flush. Sydney looked at her for a moment after which she smiled and waved.
“Hi,” she called across the street.
Justine slowly raised her gloved hand and waved back. “Hi.” She watched her daughter turn and walk back to the side of the house. A dark-haired woman put her arm around the child and walked with her inside.
J
ustine slowly lowered her phone, stepped to her car and climbed back in. She sat in the seat, staring straight ahead, her heart racing, her breathing accelerated. Slowly, Justine pulled off her gloves, lifted the phone and began to look at the pictures she had just taken. There were dozens of the young girl as she walked away; every angle that Sydney had turned, Justine tried to capture, until the moment she had disappeared inside the large house. Her fingers pushed the arrow forward and then back until she found the picture she sought. Her heart stopped. Sydney had his chin and his eyes. Her hair was jet black; she had an olive complexion. A horn honked and she looked up suddenly with a start, only to find a woman who had become annoyed with an older couple driving too slowly, so she had mashed on her horn, just before shooting them the finger. Justine looked back down at the phone, refreshing the screen and enlarging the picture. She couldn’t believe it. After all this time. Was it possible? She looked at the house and back at the picture, certain she was looking at Uri’s daughter.
Chapter 44
Sydney threw her backpack on the kitchen island, dropped her jacket and kicked off her shoes.
“Whoa, young lady,” Destiny said. “Your father would have my hide if I let you slack off while he’s away.”
“Really?” she pouted.
“Really,” Destiny replied firmly, handing her the backpack and standing over her.
“Fine,” Sydney growled dramatically, throwing her head back and picking up all her belongings before heading for her room.
“And he also said—”
“I know. Book report first!” Sydney called from the hallway. “You do realize I’m on Christmas vacation,” she added, before shutting her door.
Destiny smiled to herself. The front doorbell rang, and she walked through the kitchen and into the hallway still decorated for Christmas, arriving just as it rang again. There before her stood a beautiful woman in a colorful Missoni dress, a stunning ankle-length cashmere belted coat, and calf-length leather boots. Destiny smiled and invited her in. “You must be Mrs. Watson,” she said, reaching to shake her hand. “We’ve been expecting you.”
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